Recently, I picked up City of Djinns by William Dalrymple, my first real attempt at reading history. My reading so far had mostly been self-improvement, management, business, or investing. This book opened a completely new window into Delhi’s layered and turbulent past.

It traces the city’s evolution from the era of Muhammad bin Tughlaq in the 14th century, through the magnificence of the Mughal empire, to the British redesign of Lutyens’ Delhi, and finally the pain and displacement of Partition in 1947. The Mughal chapters were especially absorbing. The book describes the deep affection Shahjahan had for Dara Shikoh and Jahanara while showing his emotional distance from Aurangzeb and Roshanara. That sibling rivalry eventually turned into brutal conflict. Aurangzeb’s rise, marked by the overthrow of his father and the killing of his brother, highlighted how greed and insecurity can distort even the closest family bonds.

Most of the grandeur they created has vanished. Several monuments and forts have crumbled or been forgotten. Tughlakabad Fort, built by Muhammad bin Tughlaq, lies deserted and ignored despite its historic value.

The colonial chapters explain how the British took over Delhi and built a new capital with an entirely different identity. Partition disrupted the last remnants of the old Delhi that was once known for its artistic and literary richness. The elites who shaped the city’s culture were displaced or killed. Migrants who arrived from Pakistan, especially Punjabi families, rebuilt Delhi with a new energy and business-oriented approach. This shift eventually shaped the modern Delhi we see today, where looking successful, polished, and affluent often takes precedence over being genuinely content or grounded.

This observation resonates with my own experience of living in Delhi. There is an emphasis on appearance that sometimes overshadows the deeper meaning of achievement.

The most humbling insight from the book came from the stories of the Sufi saints such as Khwaja Nizamuddin and Khwaja Moinuddin Chishti. The emperors who once ruled with immense power have faded into dusty history. Their forts lie neglected, yet the shrines of these saint-poets, who held no material power, continue to attract millions seeking peace and guidance.

This contrast delivers a powerful lesson. Power, wealth, and ambition do not create legacy. Goodness, humanity, and the ability to add value to others do. History has made this point repeatedly for nearly a thousand years.

At the age of 44, I discovered that history can be a profound teacher. It offers perspective, humility, and wisdom in ways I never expected, and it has reshaped my understanding of what truly matters.